


Taste Was Sweeter

by hanyou_elf



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dark, Hurt, M/M, Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-30
Updated: 2011-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-28 13:02:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/308139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanyou_elf/pseuds/hanyou_elf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Damnit, Dean," he gasps against your shoulder. "Stop making me hurt you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taste Was Sweeter

_Encumbered forever by desire and ambition, there's a hunger still unsatisfied. The grass was greener. The light was brighter. The taste was sweeter. ~ Pink Floyd's 'High Hopes'_

 

It hurts when he throws you against the wall. A painful reminder of how out of the loop you are, even though you fought every day to keep yourself in shape. It's not the same unless you're running everyday away from the supernatural. Physically, you're in shape. You just don't have the hunter's shape.

His lips are against yours and his hands rough on your unsuspecting body. One on your shoulder, the other in the back of your jeans. He rocks against you, his teeth bite into your lip and you're helpless to stop him. Your fists against his chest mean nothing. He shakes them off like he can't even feel them.

You growl against his lips, and rock your body side to side, desperate to escape this. It's too much, and so damned familiar.

Even if it feels so wrong.

"Dean," he groans against your lips, his erection thick and insistent against your crotch. You aren't reacting, which you should be grateful for, but can't find in yourself. As disgusted as you are by the fact that he's trying to ride your lap, you feel the small familiar burn of desire.

His hands, calloused and rough and so very strong, scour your body. It's like he sets you on fire with his passion and his desire and his exuberance. A leg thrusts between yours and there's a knee pressed to your balls. And your back does not arch as his hand slides over neck, cupping it threateningly beneath your chin.

"Don't do this, Sammy," you grunt. You force your body to stop, to rest. But you know that it's pointless. You won't. Not until Sammy rests too. And he's not going to rest until, apparently, he's shoved his dick up your ass.

"Shut up," he moans. His hips move quick and dirty, thrusting against you, heavy and determined as he snaps them forward. The hand around your neck forces you back, into the wall, with your face looking up. Sam bites your neck, sucking hard and painful.

You groan, because it used to be one of the things that you enjoyed with him, until he gave himself to Lucifer.

"Sammy," you pant, pushing against him. "Please, please don't."

Sam steps back, breaking his hands away from your body. Without meaning to, you gasp in heavy breaths of relief.

There's no warning before Sammy's got his hands on your hips and your jeans low. Wrapped tight around spread thighs. One hand wraps around your flaccid cock, the other is shoving a dry finger deep into your body.

You throw your head back against the wall and whimper in pain. In more than a year, you haven't had anything like this. You're not used to the intrusion that Sammy's trying to force on you.

Your brain stutters into realization.

Sammy's going to rape you. Right here.

He's going to _rape_ you.

Tears gather and slip free, and you're not able to stop them. There's nothing you can do. All you can do is wait until he's done.

His finger frees itself from your body, and he spits into his hand before shoving two fingers into you.

You let your mind drift. Once, you had shared something beautiful with Sammy. You had given your body to him, trusting him to love you like you'd loved him. Deeply, passionately. When you had, you never imagined anything like this. You never imagined that Sammy would _rape_ you.

You cling to your shirt, and the wall, desperate to anchor yourself in the waves of pain. Fruit floats up in the air, something sweet, and it turns your stomach.

You clench your eyes shut, grateful that at least you're not hardening at the contact from Sammy's fingers. He stands up, pressing himself flush against you, and you don't remember him opening his jeans.

His fingers slide out of you, and because they're dry, they pull at the muscles, and it's a terrible, painful feeling. "Sammy, don't," you breath into the air. The only two words you can possibly offer him. Desperate to get him to listen, but unable to beg.

He kisses you, and it's quick and dirty before he turns you around and presses you into the wall. Your shoulder hits the unforgiving plaster and sends an echo of pain through you. It doesn't mean anything, because Sammy's pulling your hips back as he thrusts forward.

It's a shameful mockery of what had once been between you two. It's painful, and it rips through you without mercy. The tears pour freely, relentlessly. Hot rivers of shame as your brother fucks you open.

It seems like a small eternity since he started thrusting into you, and it's going to last a small eternity longer.

When Sammy explodes deep in you, it's like a fire being lit within your body. You cry out in shame and something else you can't explain. He falls against you, panting heavily against your neck as he gathers himself.

"Damnit, Dean," he gasps against your shoulder. "Stop making hurt you."

All you can do is pant against the wall, holding your brother up.


End file.
